


Stubble

by benedictcumberlongpond



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Sibling Incest, Stubble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-02
Updated: 2013-08-02
Packaged: 2017-12-22 04:26:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/908904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/benedictcumberlongpond/pseuds/benedictcumberlongpond
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sam was a kid, Dean promised to look after him. And if that meant forgoing shaving the stubble off his face so that Sam could feel the scrape against his thighs when Dean ate out that sweet little ass, well... What were big brother's for, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The first word out of Sammy’s mouth was a topic of debate for John and Dean for about a week. 

John would swear he heard ‘Da’, but Dean would reply that what he actually heard was _‘Dean’._

The argument cropped up randomly and sometimes aggressively, and was eventually settled by Sammy himself when he was sitting up in his highchair, pointing at Dean while he was trying to cook porridge, shaking his chubby little fist and proclaiming ‘Dean!’ with enough enunciation to make John’s arguments suddenly irrelevant. 

‘Dad’ wasn’t even the second word Sammy learnt. The second word was out of his mouth a few minutes after the porridge-shouting-incident, when Dean picked up Sam to change his nappy and Sam had fondly said ‘Sammy’s’, sounding more like _‘nammys’_ from his undeveloped palate.

“Yeah, Sammy.” Dean said quietly, so John wouldn’t hear. “Dean is Sammy’s.” 

Apparently that little shit had been listening then, because Dean was basically private property from that moment on. 

Sam didn’t want to play with anyone but Dean, didn’t really like the kids at preschool, didn’t make a lot of friends as he was growing up. 

Dean was a vessel for Sammy’s use. 

So logically, when Sam required things like a band-aid, some food, a new backpack, his first kiss - yeah, apparently that was Dean’s duty as well. 

Somewhere around the age thirteen mark as well, when Sam started accidentally getting hard when Dean wrestled him too roughly, or when Dean gave him a kiss goodnight, well – Dean was Sammy’s. If Sammy wasn’t sure what to do with this developing body, and if it only responded to the touch of his older brother, then there wasn’t much of a choice for Dean. It was his duty – as Sammy’s – to kiss those soft, pink lips and the clear skin of his chest and the precum at the tip of his cock. 

That’s what he convinced himself, anyway. 

“Dean.” His voice was firmer now, sometimes crackling in his pubescence, sometimes whining, sometimes shouting, always demanding the same amount of attention that his first ‘Dean!’ had gotten.

“Yeah, Sammy?” Dean replied from the bathroom, glancing in the mirror to see that Sam was perched on the end of the bed with his knees drawn up to his chest and a little frown puckering his eyebrows. They had spent the weekend alone, which meant a whole lot of activities involving that bed. 

“What are you doing?” He asked, looking at the items in Dean’s hand. 

“I’m shaving, little brother.” Dean answered, flashing the shaving cream and plastic razor towards him.

“Why?” Sam asked. 

If John hadn’t been in the room, Dean might have said _so when I’m eating out your pretty little hole I don’t leave a rash on those soft thighs, baby boy._

But John was in the room, so Dean just shrugged. 

“Felt like it.” He said, shaking the can of shaving cream. 

“Don’t!” Sam said suddenly when Dean was about to squirt the foam into his hand. Dean quirked an eyebrow at his little brother in the mirror. 

“You don’t think I should shave, Sam?” Dean asked, turning to face him. Sam was blushing. John was looking up from his journal. 

“Dad doesn’t shave,” Sam pointed out, gesturing to their dad. John did shave, just not all that regularly. “Besides, makes you look older. So you can sign me into school and stuff.”

“He’s got a point, Dean.” John said distractedly, turning back to his journal. Dean could tell there was another reason, and he frowned at Sam carefully, mouthing ‘what?’ 

Sam pulled his notebook into his lap and scrawled something, bunching up the paper and throwing intentionally sideways of the bin. 

“Nice throw, idiot.” Dean remarked, Sam rolled his eyes petulantly and flicked his hair towards the paper. 

Right. Smart little Sammy. 

Dean walked over to the bin and picked up the piece of paper, pocketing it discreetly and making his way back to the bathroom under the premise of putting away his shaving utensils. 

He pulled out the paper and looked at what was written there, almost dropping it. 

_‘Wanna feel it,’_

“Fuck,” Dean whispered, cock becoming interested from the confines of his jeans. 

When he turned back around Sam had skipped off of the bed and was out the front, practicing drills and pretending he hadn’t just given his older brother an erection that they couldn’t do anything about until John got another case. 

“How’s things lookin’, dad?” Dean asked casually. “Reckon it’s a case?” 

“Might be.” John said quietly, raising his eyes to consider his eldest son. “What do you think?” 

Dean swallowed. It was rare that John asked him for contribution, it either meant he thought Dean could handle it, or he was testing him. Dean walked around the table to look at his dad’s journal, it was a _big deal._ John pointed out the bits of information he had collected and Dean read them quickly, thinking to himself that Sammy could probably work this out better than him anyway. 

“Werewolves?” He asked unsurely. 

“Not full moon.” John replied, not sounding angry, rather like he was nudging Dean in the proper direction. 

“So… like a shape shifter? One of the animal ones?” 

“Could be, what makes you say that?” John asked. 

“Missing hearts in victims, plus the statement of the guy who heard growling. Could be a big dog.” Dean suggested. 

“Then looks like I got a case,” John smiled, which was the Winchester equivalent of _I’m proud of you_ , so Dean blushed and ducked his head and said ‘yes, sir.’ 

“I’ll head out tonight, gunna stay in a bit closer to town. You and Sammy gunna be okay here for a few days?” 

“All good.” Dean nodded, and John reached into his pocket to retrieve his wallet, leaving a wad of bills on the table. 

“You need any more, you call me, ok?” 

“Yes sir.” Dean said

“Good. Can you and Sammy pack up the Impala for me?” 

Dean nodded, trying not to be too enthusiastic. They probably had two nights together, tops. 

That was enough. 

Dean was going to make sure Sammy _felt it._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Added porn for those who wanted added porn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Stubble

Waiting for Dean to make a move was like watching a lion about to kill and devour a baby antelope. 

As they waved to John from the driveway, watching the impala disappear, there was always that tension. As soon as the car vanished from view, like they _could_ if they _wanted_ to just have crazy sex right _fucking_ here. 

It hadn’t happened yet, but catching the glint of stubble against his older brother’s cheek as he turned back to the room they were staying in? Yeah. That was. 

Yeah. 

“Come on, Sammy.” Dean’s voice was harsh from the doorway, like an order rather than an entreaty, and Sam’s feet stumbled to move quickly into the safety of their four walls. 

He moved straight to the bed, sitting down, staring up at Dean and the predatory look he was sending his way. 

“Clothes. Off.” Dean said, shifting his glance away as if he wasn’t moderately interested. He walked to the kitchenette, poured himself a glass of water. 

Sam’s fingers were shaking slightly as he pulled off his shirt and then tugged his pants down, hesitating minutely before slipping out of his underpants as well. 

He watched his older brother as he continued around the kitchen, stacking a few dirty plates for lunch and turning the hot water on in the sink. 

“Lay down on your stomach,” Dean said casually, as if he was saying ‘come dry these dishes’, or ‘is there anything on the tv?’

Sam swallowed, rolling over onto his stomach on the bed, spreading his legs as if to encourage Dean. 

Dean made no move to come over to him, though, and Sam heard the clink of cutlery and the sloshing of dishwater and he realized _Dean is washing the dishes._

For some reason, he didn’t say anything, even though his teenage impatience was welling up, just under his skin

He knew Dean would look after him. His Dean. 

He lost track of time laying there, almost feeling like he might fall asleep against the scratchy sheets if not for his insistent hard on, trapped against his belly, leaking in anticipation. 

By the time Dean had touched him Sam felt like he had given up on ever being touched, and the warmth of his older brother’s hand zinged through his skin and made him jump, prompting shushing noises from Dean as his large hand traced patterns up Sam’s legs. 

Sam forced his mouth shut, letting his body absorb the touch as Dean’s hands rubbed from his calves up to his thighs, pressing slowly over his ass and parting the cheeks. 

His mouth was completely unexpected, sudden and wet and warm and _fuck,_ Sam couldn’t stop the obscenities spilling over his lips. 

Dean was sucking at his rim, tongue playing with the pucker without pushing in yet, his stubble-lined jaw rubbing against the soft skin of his thighs and making him feel like he was on fire. 

Dean pressed in further, his tongue slipping into Sam’s hole and the burn of his stubble now flush against his ass, and Sam rocked back into his touch and groaned. 

“Fuck, Dean, feels so good, feels so good, Dean.” Sam rambled, groans turning to a higher pitch when Dean started fucking his tongue into Sam, sharp jabs that made his hips rock against the bed, the friction of his cock against the bed sheets almost enough to send him over the edge. 

Dean’s tongue was withdrawing and his strong hands were on Sam’s hips, flipping him easily and swallowing his cock in one smooth motion, until his nose was pressed to Sam’s pelvis and the stubble of his chin was brushing Sam’s balls. 

That was pretty much all it took and then Sam was coming, filling his older brother’s mouth and pumping his hips uselessly against Dean’s hands. 

Dean swallowed and lapped around Sam’s cock to catch any come that he missed, and then Sam was laying there, naked and sated and panting while Dean stood over him, entirely clothed with his lips bruised and swollen. 

“Beautiful, Sammy.” Dean whispered

“Sammy’s Dean.” Sam replied deliriously, reaching for his brother. Dean smirked crawling onto the bed and lifting his brother’s legs out of the way, pausing when he saw the state of Sam’s thighs. 

“Looks like you got some stubble burn, little brother.” He said lightly. “Can you feel it?” 

“Yeah, I can feel it.” Sam replied, thinking of his note and grinning sleepily, snatches of words like _Dean, stubble, sex, burn_ making his cock stir half heartedly, deciding that from now on? He might have to hide Dean’s razors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Deanstubble Sexburn is a new band created by Deanplease/JustineDelarge and you are all welcome.   
> Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> If I can be bothered I'll post another chapter of porn for you lovelies xox


End file.
